


Three Times Grantaire And Enjolras Fake-Dated And One Time They Didn't

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: They really don't know how they keep ending up in situations which demand for them to pretend being a couple. It's no that either minds but... they do mind, because playing pretend with your crush weighs heavy on the heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Opium_du_Peuple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opium_du_Peuple/gifts).



> All my love to Elise, whose birthday it is today ♥ Thank you for being so wonderful and incredible.

i.

Grantaire fiddled nervously with the sleeve of his jumper. It was a good jumper, it didn’t deserve the constant fiddling, the threat of it being rubbed so often that it would thin out or chafe. He wanted to keep the jumper. Why was he even thinking about the damn jumper for so long? 

Oh, right. 

Because he had a date in half an hour and he was nervous as hell. It would be the first date ever since he and Julie split up over a year ago. And it was sort of a blind date, which made matters only worse. Grantaire and  _ TeamKatnissIsAce87 _ had met via dating app and chatted for about a month now.  _ TeamKatnissIsAce87 _ was actually called Gwen, a few years younger than Grantaire, studied architecture and enjoyed music festivals. Gwen didn’t have a proper photo online, so he had no idea what she looked like - not that it mattered. It only meant that he had to wait for her to approach him at the café. Ten minutes before they were supposed to meet, Grantaire snatched away the nice table in the corner by the large window, only free by chance or fate. 

He’d gone for hot chocolate, not wanting to drown his nervousness in caffeine - that wouldn’t end too well. Whenever someone new entered the small and cozy place, Grantaire looked up hopefully but no one made eye-contact with him or seemed to look for someone. It was fine. Everyone could run late, that wasn’t anything to be concerned over. 

Grantaire checked his phone periodically to see if Gwen had texted him about her whereabouts, if/why she was running late or if she’d maybe cancelled because something else had come up, like a heartbroken friend or a uni deadline she’d forgotten. But nothing. 

There was a silly voice in the back of his mind which whispered that she’d probably walked by, saw him through the window, and decided to not even enter the café. But he squashed that voice down quickly - sure, he looked very much put together on his profile pic, but he did clean up nicely for the date. Curls tamed, no paint underneath his fingernails, his good jumper which, according to Joly, really brought out his eyes. Grantaire was only glad that he hadn’t told any of his friends about the date. While they were all lovely people, they could get a little overbearing and would’ve surely texted him an obsessive amount of times by now. This way he didn’t have to explain anything to them should it not work out. Much easier. 

By now, half an hour after their meeting should’ve been, the baristas were shooting Grantaire pitiful glances. They probably knew he had been stood up, with how they whispered between them while trying to be subtle about watching him out of the corner of their eyes. 

Great.

He hadn’t been at the centre of a pity party in quite some time, not since he recovered and stopped drinking. It was a horrible feeling, leaving him hot and cold all over. His hands were clammy and Grantaire tried to be nonchalant about the entire situation but that was really fucking hard. All he wanted now was to finish his nearly cold hot chocolate and leave, but his hands were shaking too obviously to lift the mug. It was then that the bell rung again, announcing a new customer. 

Enjolras.

Grantaire wanted to jump up and get his attention, relieved at seeing a familiar face, but he didn’t want to make a fool out of himself. Besides, if Enjolras was in this area of the city, he was probably running some errand or another. 

Still, just watching Enjolras order his coffee with that damn charming smile of his - his public smile, because his private smile was a little more subdued, a little more crooked and a lot more genuine - calmed Grantaire down enough to finally take a sip of his drink. He observed his friend move to the side to wait for his coffee to go, watched the curls flop over his forehead, blown away with a puff of breath. Enjolras rocked on his heels, letting his gaze wander around the café. When his eyes fell on Grantaire by the window, he startled a little, but smiled gently. Grantaire gave him a little half wave and a smile, his eyes growing larger as Enjolras approached. 

“Hey you. What’s bringing you to these parts of Paris?”

Grantaire pulled a face, debating with himself. Tell the truth? Lie? Tell half a truth? It was Enjolras, after all.

“Got stood up, was supposed to have a date like 40 minutes ago but she never turned up.” He shrugged his shoulders in feigned indifference. 

“Oh, I…”

“Latte Macchiato for Enjolras!” The barista called out, interrupting Enjolras efficiently. 

“Just a second,” Enjolras smiled and quickly got his coffee.

“So,” Enjolras began again as he once more joined Grantaire, “care for me to be your fake date? I heard the baristas talking about a bet on the guy who got stood up and the blonde one is gonna give us free cake should your date turn up after all. I could do with free cake.”

Grantaire laughed softly. “Yeah, I’d love for you to be my fake date. Please, take a seat.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Gentleman,” Enjolras grinned. 

He dropped his bag onto the floor, carefully placed the coffee on the table and took off his coat before sitting down in the chair opposite Grantaire. He grabbed his hand and squeezed softly. 

“Gotta make it convincing,” Enjolras winked at him. 

Fuck.

That just threw Grantaire right back to why he used to (Used to? Oh, who was he kidding!) have a crush on Enjolras. 

“Will you kiss my hand, then?” Grantaire teased.

“Oh, I’d kiss your cheek for free cake. Maybe even the tip of your nose! It’s no hardship,” he smiled. “But, rule of thumb is: if you have to kiss to show you’re in a relationship, you’re not relationshipping right.”

“I’m not… what even… Enjolras,” Grantaire laughed, squeezing his hand. “That’s so dumb.”

“But it made you laugh, so I feel like I still won.” 

There it was again, the swooping of his stomach, the rapid beating of his heart. Grantaire had thought he would be over Enjolras by now. Especially after dating Julie for nearly a year. That had been a good relationship until it wasn’t so good anymore. Still, Grantaire had thought… but obviously he’d been wrong. 

Nevermind. 

He could deal with being a fake boyfriend for free cake for an afternoon. 

“I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

“No, I was on my way home from a meeting. We finally arranged the details for conference in Lyon. Did you decide if you wanna join us?” 

“Hmmm…” Grantaire hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, why would I even come?”

“Because Combeferre and Courfeyrac and Joly and Musichetta are also coming? And because you had a big influence on the idea I’m proposing and because I know I can benefit from having you in the audience when I give my TEDTalk. Obviously you can’t interrupt, but I know you’ll challenge me afterwards if I say anything you deem to be stupid or too short-sighted.”

“Okay… yeah. Alright, I’ll join you.”

The smile Enjolras shot him made his brain bang figurative pans together in order to chastise him for that dumb idea. An entire weekend, watching Enjolras speak passionately about topics he cared about? Yeah, good luck surviving that, Grantaire, good fucking luck. He couldn’t berate himself silently for much longer though, because just as he was about to say something, one of the baristas came up to their table.

“Uhm… so this is awkward,” he started, “but my colleague and I were betting that you’d been stood up and she was certain your date would still come so I said I’d get both of you cake on the house. I’m super sorry for being creepy but… which cake would you like?”

“Red velvet,” Enjolras smiled sweetly, letting his hand drop onto Grantaire’s knee.

“Cheesecake for me, please,” Grantaire smiled as well, placing his hand over Enjolras’. 

“Right on.” The guy quickly left again, obviously embarrassed about the whole thing. But he was back quickly with their cakes, apologising once more. 

“Dude, it’s all good,” Grantaire sighed. “Date came, was just stuck on the metro. It’s a bit creepy to bet on patrons but we all make mistakes. You know better for next time now.” 

“I know, I’m really sorry. You two make a cute couple though. Sorry, again,” he apologised sheepishly before leaving. 

“See?” Enjolras beamed at him. “A cute couple. I bet it’s the whole hand-holding. You’re wearing a lovely jumper, by the way.”

“Oh.” Grantaire blushed lightly. “Thank you. It’s very soft.”

“Oh?” Enjolras reached out to gently run his fingers along Grantaire’s arm. “It is very soft! How come I’ve never seen it before?”

“Joly and I bought it just the other day. But it apparently is nice, so I might wear it more frequently.”

“You should. Yellow is a good colour on you. Brings out the honey in your eyes.”

Grantaire snorted, but blushed deeper. “Thank you. I appreciate your compliment.”

The gently and genuine smile Enjolras shot him might’ve been an actual shot, judging by the fact that Grantaire was now certainly 100% dead and right back in the hell that was Crushing On Raphaël Enjolras.

 

ii.

“Wait, what do you mean we can’t stay here?” Enjolras huffed out an annoyed breath. 

“I’m so sorry,” the owner of the small hotel told him, “but the only room left has a double bed and it’s our policy to never rent a double room to two single people.” 

Enjolras groaned softly and started thinking. There were three rooms with a double bed but only two couples - Combeferre and Courfeyrac as well as Joly and Musichetta. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Grantaire appeared behind Enjolras, smelling faintly of smoke and mint. 

He was trying to kick the habit, saying that he’d given up drinking and became sober so he might as well quit smoking. But going Cold Turkey wouldn’t work, not with the kind of person Enjolras knew Grantaire to be. So he reduced it slowly, having worked his way down to a single cigarette a day. 

“Only room available has a double bed and they refuse to give it to someone who isn’t a couple. So we might need to find a new hotel,” Enjolras updated him. 

“We’re good Christians like that,” the hotel owner smiled. She gestured towards Courfeyrac and Combeferre. “Gay or straight, we don’t care, but two bachelors sharing a bed? That’s unethical.” 

“Ah, but then I don’t see the problem?” Grantaire furrowed his brows. “Maybe M. Enjolras didn’t seem it fit to tell you, seeing as it is all very new stil and we haven’t told anyone yetl, but we’ve been dating for three months now. Would that be a suitable relationship? I can certainly share photos of us with you, if it would put your mind at ease about us sharing a bed.” Grantaire slipped his hand into the back pocket of Enjolras’ jeans and smiled gently at the couple before them. 

“Oh no, that is perfectly alright then! You could’ve said so,” the man beamed and handed Enjolras the keycard for their room. “We apologise for the inconveniences. Please enjoy your stay.” 

“We certainly will.” Grantaire winked and slung his arm around Enjolras’ waist before dragging him aside gently. 

Enjolras met Courfeyrac’s confused state with a kind smile before he got out his phone to text him and Combeferre that they were, in fact, not dating, just pretending. Grantaire had told their friends about the incident at the café; maybe that was where this idea had come from. Enjolras certainly didn’t mind sharing a bed with a good friend. It wasn’t much different than sharing with Jehan or Feuilly. Or so Enjolras was convinced. 

Up in their room, Grantaire leaned against the closed door and laughed softly. 

“I hope you don’t mind being my fake boyfriend for the stay?” 

“Of course not.” Enjolras let himself fall onto the bed. He stretched lightly and grinned. “Though I wouldn’t preferred a more swoon-worthy proposal.”

“That can be arranged.” 

Grantaire rummaged around in the pockets of his coat. He pulled out two strips of chewing gum, unwrapping them to twist the silver wrapping paper into a ring. With sure strides, Grantaire crossed the distance between them before he got into one knee. Holding up the makeshift ring, he asked: “My dearest Enjolras, will you do me the honour of being my fake partner? During times of hardship like tomorrow morning but also during times of happiness like tomorrow evening? Will you be my fake boyfriend until the end of time, which is to say the end of this trip?” 

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh - which served well to cover up the swoop of his stomach. 

“Yes, Grantaire, I would love to be your fake boyfriend for the remainder of this trip.” 

He accepted the ring with a beaming smile which matched Grantaire’s expression to a T. The laughter lines around Grantaire’s eyes were crinkled in amusement and, just for a second, Enjolras thought that there was nothing more beautiful than the physical proof of Grantaire’s happiness. 

“Perfect! Now, if my fake boyfriend, my boyfake… wait no what. Fakefriend? No… fayfriend? Also no. Nevermind! I’m gonna take a shower now because I feel a little gross from the flight. Will you be okay without me?”

“No,” Enjolras deadpanned, “my heart will despair without you by my side.”

Grantaire shot him a crooked grin. “Just what I wanted to hear. I’ll tell everyone you fake-showered with me, then, when we meet up for lunch before the first talks start.”

“I fake-showered with you? Like what, I stood outside naked and ran my fingers through my hair while you were in the shower?”

“Exactly that, mon petit chou.” 

With that, Grantaire grabbed his shower bag and locked himself into the bathroom, leaving behind a very confused Enjolras. Confused, slightly flustered, but overall very happy. He still had two hours before lunch, so he changed into his pajama pants, grabbed his book and stretched out on the really comfortable bed. 

He must’ve nodded off, because the next thing he knew was that someone carefully took away his book. Enjolras grunted lightly and blinked his eyes open. 

“‘S time?”

“You have over an hour left, sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you. Mind if I join?”

Enjolras only grunted again and curled up on his side, leaving half the bed to Grantaire, who quickly slipped underneath the sheets. 

“I set an alarm early enough, we’ll have half an hour to get ready. Okay?”

“‘kay,” Enjolras yawned. 

It felt like he’d only just closed his eyes again when Grantaire’s alarm ripped him from his well-deserved sleep. They got ready in comfortable silence, making their way downstairs into the lobby. Just before they rounded the corner, Grantaire slipped his hand into Enjolras’, smiling at him. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Gotta uphold the reputation or else they’ll throw us out.”

“We can’t risk that,” Grantaire nodded sternly and squeezed his hand. 

Enjolras didn’t let go, though, not even when they’d left the hotel to walk to a nearby restaurant where Combeferre had made a reservation for their party. With the other people from the NGO at their side, Enjolras wasn’t quite certain if they’d keep up the charade. Their friends knew they weren’t dating and did it matter what their colleagues thought? Not really, yet it still felt wrong to somehow lie to them. Then again, was it really lying if no one outright asked them? Enjolras didn’t care, not when it meant he got to hold onto Grantaire’s hand until they had arrived, not when it meant that Grantaire grabbed his hand on the way back as well - and kept up with the soft touches throughout the day. Enjolras’ speech was in the evening, but they listened to talks before that, joined a discussion and wandered around a bit, chatting to people they knew and didn’t know. At some point, Enjolras lost most of the people he’d went with. It wasn’t surprising, there were just so many things to discover, so many people to talk to. He caught a flash of Combeferre here and there, saw Courfeyrac’s curls sticking out, heard Musichetta’s laugh from the far end of the room. It was nice to know his friends were still around. He knew they’d all eventually move towards each other again the closer Enjolras’ speech came. His nerves were always playing tricks on him, always causing him stage fright, no matter how well he knew the topic he was talking about, no matter how many times he’d done this before. 

“There you are,” Grantaire’s voice came from somewhere to his left.

He had Combeferre in tow, who immediately wrapped his friend into his arms. Enjolras exhaled shakily and leaned his head against Combeferre’s chest. He felt Grantaire’s warm hand on his back, grounding him further. Courfeyrac joined them soon, pressing a quick kiss to Enjolras’ cheek. 

“How are you holding up?” He asked gently. 

“Much better now. Thank you for being there for me. I’m good now. Ready to do this.”

Combeferre let go of him, cupped his face carefully and smiled. 

“You will fucking rock this.”

“Yeah I will,” Enjolras beamed. “I know I will! And I can hold my ground in case someone wants to argue with me. Or discuss any point I’ve made.”

“Well, I certainly will,” Grantaire grinned, winking at him. “As a good fake boyfriend, I obviously have to get engaged in what you do. That means I gotta argue.”

Enjolras laughed softly. “I appreciate that, thank you. Oh, there’s the others.” He waved the rest of their business group over.

Grantaire placed his hand on the small of Enjolras’ back, smiling at his fake boyfriends’ coworkers as they approached. 

“You look like you’re planning a horrible thing,” Enjolras hissed under his breath.

“Chill,” Grantaire only said, waiting for them to arrive. “Maurice, Lydia,” Grantaire greeted the lawyers. “Seeing as I don’t actually work for your organisation, I won’t have a spot at your table, so I’ll better get in and find myself a good seat. I’ll leave Enjolras in your capable hands. God knows he’ll be in mine tonight for long enough. Oh, and I will definitely speak out at the end of his speech. Don’t worry if it gets heated, it’s foreplay.” He winked at Enjolras and pressed a kiss to his temple. 

Damn that man, Enjolras thought as he watched him go into the conference room. Fuck Grantaire and everything he represented, but also  _ fuck Grantaire _ .

 

iii. 

Grantaire knew it was a dumb idea. He knew it the second he lifted the phone to his ear and listened to the dial tone. He’d known it the second he’d dialed the number. 

“Monsieur Grantaire, welcome to my phone,” Enjolras greeted him cheerily. “How can I help?”

“Is this the Bureau Of Wish-Fulfilment For Underprivileged Grantaires?” Grantaire shot back. 

A while ago, after years of skirting around each other, arguing and fighting, they’d fallen into the habit of being a bit silly with each other. Grantaire had always known that Enjolras could be silly - he’d experienced him enough times around Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Cosette. Once Grantaire had sobered up - not getting sober, but growing more serious about the issues at hand - Enjolras had let himself relax around him. Grantaire had understood then that his friend had been on guard the entire time, of course. They found out they actually got along pretty well, sharing a similar sense of humour and a love for theatre. Though they could never agree on movies or books: Enjolras was too much of a Romantic, Grantaire simply a lover of the Beat Generation. Enjolras found Jack Kerouac tedious to read while it had changed Grantaire’s life as a young adult. 

“You must’ve gotten the wrong number. This is the Bureau Of Loving Your Friends, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can work with that, because it’s a friend emergency.”

“Oh. Okay, what’s up?”

“I need you to come and pretend to be my boyfriend again. It’s of the utmost importance as  _ Chez Marc _ has a crêpes all-you-can-eat buffet, 40% off for couples only valid today.”

“Only valid today? The offer or the relationship?”

Grantaire laughed softly. “Up for interpretation. So? You in?”

“I can be there in 20. Haven’t had anything to eat yet. You wanna go in and save us a table?” 

“Will do. Thank you and see you soon!” 

With a table snatched away, right at the window front of the café, it wasn’t long before Enjolras arrived. Grantaire saw him go up to the waiter, smiling and speaking softly before joining Grantaire. 

“I’m going to kiss your cheek now,” he said as a warning before bending down and pressing his lips to Grantaire’s cheek. 

“Thank you for coming,” Grantaire beamed, still able to feel the lingering heat and weight of Enjolras’ lips on his skin. 

“Discount crêpes and spending time with you? I think that sounds perfect for a lazy Sunday morning.”

“Maybe lazy for you. I’ve been up since 7am. Dancing, boxing, showering and now I’m here.”

“Lazy for me, then,” Enjolras smiled, eyes twinkling. “I was still in bed when you called, warm and comfortable and reading.”

“You do still look a little sleep-soft around the edges.”

What the fuck. 

Grantaire groaned inwardly, but didn’t mind his dumb comment too much seeing Enjolras blush deeply. 

“So how does this buffet thing then work?” Enjolras picked up the menu and studied it. “I want a green tea, I think. And a coffee on the side.”

“Coffee on the side, he says.” Grantaire rolled his eyes fondly. “Well, it’s not a classic buffet as you can see in the lack of a actual buffets set up. It’s more that you order the buffet and they bring you all kinds of ingredients. You can choose ten, I believe. Fruits, jams, other spreads, cheese… that’s sorta thing. And then they bring you a stack of crêpes and if you want more than the ones they’re bringing, they’ll bring new ones.”

“That’s a good system. Reduces food waste.”

“I knew you’d like that.”

Enjolras beamed at him, gently taking Grantaire’s hand at the waiter approached. Throughout their breakfast, they kept it up with the small touches. Grantaire brushing a stray curl from Enjolras’ forehead, Enjolras running his fingers along Grantaire’s arm, Grantaire dropping a kiss onto the crown of Enjolras’ head as he went to the restroom. It was blissful torture. Every single touch set Grantaire on fire and warmed his heart. What he wouldn’t give for a kiss. He knew he’d get away with it, seeing as they were fake-dating for the day. He’d have to ask Enjolras first but Enjolras would agree. Still, not a good idea, not at all. Grantaire wouldn’t be able to hold back all that he felt, all that he’d felt for years now. 

“Oh, you have to try this combination!” Enjolras held his fork out for Grantaire. “It’s incredible! Weird but incredible.”

“So a bit like you?” Grantaire grinned. 

“A bit like us,” Enjolras said with a gentle smile. “Try it.” 

Grantaire leaned forward, lips closing around the fork as he tried some of whatever combination Enjolras was offering him. Well, this was probably the closest he’d ever come to kissing Enjolras. 

“What is this?” 

“It’s the mango chutney, apple, mint and bits of bacon.” 

“Huh.” Grantaire licked his lips and hummed. “I like it. Yes, it’s surprisingly good.” 

“Thanks! I’m glad I discovered it. What are you having?”

“Peanut butter, Nutella, apple, strawberry and banana.

“A classic,” Enjolras smiled. “And it makes you feel healthy because there’s so many fruits in there.”

Grantaire laughed. “Yes, exactly! It counts towards my five a day. Look at me, getting healthy as fuck. A cigarette every second day, if even, fruit and veggies, no alcohol, sport three times a week. I’m telling you, I’m the poster boy for healthy living. They should put me on the cover of a magazine!”

Enjolras snorted undignified. “They truly should, yes. I’d buy it.”

“Of course you would, you’re my friend. Friends support each other.”

“They do, don’t they?” 

Enjolras had a look on his face, something Grantaire couldn’t quite decipher. He tried to catalogue it, categorise it, but he drew up blanks. He looked like he was contemplating the wonders of Earth, an expression not quite suited for their relationship, for the situation they were in. But Grantaire treasured it nonetheless, even if it left him confused and - dare he say - hopeful.  He wasn’t oblivious, he knew when people were flirting with him. But the idea of Enjolras flirting was just too alien. Flirting with him, especially. 

“Do you mind if I instagram our date?”

“Please, go ahead,” Enjolras allowed. 

Grantaire tried to take a pretty photo of their food, Enjolras’ hand holding his in the frame as well. He squeezed it softly before typing out the post. 

“If you mash ‘fake date’ together it makes ‘fate’,” Grantaire mused as he tucked his phone away again. “Or ‘dake’ but that’s not a proper word.” 

“So you’re my fate then?”

Shit. 

Well if that didn’t conjure up images of a house with a white picket fence and two dogs, lazy kisses in the afternoon sun and long forgotten coffee on the windowsill. 

“It was definitely fate that we met. The cynic and the believer, Ginsberg and Byron… two peas in a pod. Well, different pods.”

Enjolras beamed at him. “That’s a weird description but I sort of like it. Though I really don’t believe in fate or chance or Providence, however you may call it.”

“So you don’t think it was fate that Marius just happened to walk past Cosette in the Jardin Du Luxembourg? It wasn’t fate that they happened to be in the same spot at the same time when they could’ve been anywhere else in Paris, even anywhere else in the garden? And you don’t think it was fate that I met Feuilly when I got my nails done, that he had a shit day and ranted to me about it, something a nail designer shouldn’t do, and that we became friends that way? It’s all just a coincidence? You don’t think that there’s a tiny chance of anything or anyone having a hand in all of it? In the grand scheme of things?”

Enjolras cocked his head to the side. “No. I don’t really believe in God or a higher instance. I believe that I am the maker of my own life, that no one else meddles with it but me. Coincidences. Lucky coincidences, but coincidences nonetheless. The thought of someone else having any control over who I meet or where I go… I don’t really like that, no.”

“I don’t think that it’s meddling in a bad way. I see it more as two souls being drawn towards each other. And, at the right time and place in life, these souls will find their way to each other.”

“Then I believe our souls have met too early. We could’ve avoided a lot of anger had we met later.”

Grantaire shrugged his shoulder and stuffed the last bit of pancake into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed and said: “I don’t think so. I think we met at the right time and I believe we needed the first tedious years to become acquainted with each other in a different manner. I needed all of you at that point in time. I don’t know why or how, but I am certain I did, so I’m not questioning it.”

“So you’re trying to tell me you do believe in something?”

“Only in you. And aliens. There’s no way aliens don’t exist. Not sure about ghosts. And not sure about fate either, but I sort of find the thought comforting. Maybe that comes from hanging out with Bossuet so much. He does believe in fate, very much so.”

“I can admit, you might have a point. It’s… calming to think that you will exactly whom you need at exactly the right time. Either way, fate or no fate, I’m glad to have you in my life.”

One of these days, Grantaire was going to kill him. No, really! He couldn’t say such nice things, couldn’t ignite the soft flicker of hope in Grantaire. Of course, Enjolras didn’t know, so Grantaire couldn’t fault him. He simply had to get over Enjolras - either again or finally. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second and final part, I hope you enjoy it ♥

\+ iv.

His stomach swooped as he read the mail he’d gotten through the university’s alumni mail system. It might be akin to self-torture, but somehow Enjolras didn’t care enough to stop himself. All he cared about was to spend quality time with Grantaire. And, really, a research on couples with the chance of winning a spa weekend? No one could fault Enjolras for wanting to take part in that university study. Two birds with one stone, so to say. 

Enjolras checked the time; just after 11pm. Grantaire would surely be awake still. After the third ring, Grantaire answered the phone. 

“Grantaire’s Garden Of Greatness, Grantaire speaking, how may I help?”

Enjolras chuckled softly. “Hey. Am I interrupting anything?”

“Nope, not at all. All good?”

“All good. I was wondering… care to be my fake boyfriend for an afternoon? To help students and maybe win a wellness weekend. It’s a study about couples.”

“That would be cheating and falsifying scientific data…” Grantaire remarked. 

Enjolras hummed. He hadn’t thought of that. Shit. As Courfeyrac would say: his dick had done all the thinking. 

“Yeah, true… alright. I’m sorry for bothering you with it, but thank you for listening.” 

“Enjolras…” 

He could hear the clear hesitance in Grantaire’s voice and a hot wave of sharp heat shot through him. Maybe Grantaire knew. Maybe this was Grantaire telling him they couldn’t be friends anymore because it made him uncomfortable. Though he doubted Grantaire would stop being friends with someone over a crush. 

“Yes?”

“Do you wanna meet up tomorrow? Grab a coffee, maybe see the new exhibition at the gallery?”

“You said you’re sure you’ll hate the… what was it? Pretentious, capitalistic, uncreative pieces of shit art?” 

Grantaire snorted. “Yeah, but I can’t give a verdict until I’ve actually seen it, can I?” 

“You can but you shouldn’t. I’ll meet you there at 1pm? We can have a look around, through the rest of the gallery as well, and then spend too much time in the gift shop before grabbing a coffee from their café?”

“Time spent in gallery gift shops is time spent well.” 

Enjolras could hear the grin through the phone, his heart reacting wildly to it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Enjolras said softly. 

After they’d hung up, Enjolras couldn’t stop the silly move of clutching a pillow to his chest and grinning brightly. Their plan for the day after sounded too much like a date, and Enjolras was loving and hating it at the same time. Marius, of all people, had told him he should just say something to Grantaire. And if Marius saw that there was something between them… then again, not even Combeferre or Courfeyrac had said something. Sure, they’d teased about how their fake dating sounded like the plot of a bad romance novel or rom-com, but there hadn’t been any reading directed towards potential feelings either might be harbouring towards the other. Maybe Marius was just braver. After all, while Courfeyrac and Combeferre has danced around each other for ages, Marius had outright confessed his love for Cosette the second time he’d met her. Was it too late to call for advice? Maybe it was simply silly. Maybe there wasn’t anything there. Maybe Enjolras should just wait for tomorrow and see how everything went. Observe Grantaire and their interactions with each other closely. Maybe he could draw conclusions from that. Maybe he should just confide in Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Surely they had some ideas on how to properly flirt with Grantaire, how to get his message across appropriately. Some part of Enjolras definitely wanted to date Grantaire. Another part was scared of fucking up their friendship beyond repair. There was no way he’d risk losing Grantaire. Maybe that was why it had taken his two best friends, his brothers, ages to finally make a move, despite knowing the other felt the same. Most relationships weren’t built to last and what would they do should that be the case? But they’d both dated enough to know how to deal with relationships, how to handle to communication and how to work as a couple. 

Enjolras didn’t have that knowledge. He’d dated a grand total of one person and that had been when he’d been barely 18. More a curiosity thing than actual desire to be with the guy. Grantaire had some knowledge though - Enjolras was unaware of the specifics. Point was: Enjolras was out of his element here and it scared him shitless. 

The feeling hadn’t subsided when he waited for Grantaire in front of the gallery the next time. He’d spend an incredible amount just choosing his clothes - Enjolras felt a little sorry for all the times he’d made fun of Courfeyrac for taking ages choosing his outfit when he’d only gone to grab coffee with his  _ best friend  _ Combeferre. Well, that was in the past now. But Grantaire was in the future, so Enjolras was allowed to freak out a little bit. In hindsight, he should’ve asked Courfeyrac or Combeferre to be there for the date prep. Which wasn’t even a date. Enjolras had to remind himself of it but all thoughts flew out of the window when Grantaire rounded the corner. He simply looked too good, too  _ Grantaire. _

“Hey there,” Grantaire beamed. “I got us chocolate to sneak into the museum so we can eat something nice while we look at the crap this pretentious idiot produced.”

Enjolras laughed softly. “You just can’t stand him, can you?”

“Look, I just hate everything he stands for and everything he represents. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Is this the art equivalent to hate sex?”

“Oh my God, I cannot believe you just said that!” Grantaire beamed at him, whole face brimming with happiness. “That’s so relatable, yes! I mean, I’ve had hate sex like twice in my life, but I imagine that it’s pretty similar to this. God, now I’m even more excited!”

Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’ hand and tugged him into the small gallery. 

“I don’t know if the thought of art as hate sex should excite you. Maybe more hate sex as art?” 

“Monsieur Enjolras, I don’t know what happened to you but you talk an awful lot about sex today.” He squeezed Enjolras’ hand and dragged him around the corner towards the exhibition. “One might even think you’ve got a special someone.” 

Enjolras glanced over at Grantaire, blushing deeply. 

“So there is someone! Oh, you gotta tell me everything!”

“Over coffee, okay? I wanna see the object of your hate-art-viewing-fantasies first. Or… something.”

“Oh, I can show you right here!” 

Grantaire led Enjolras to the first painting, telling him exactly why he hated it. It was less the item itself he hated, more the artist. Apparently, as Enjolras found out during their two-hour-long stay in the exhibition (Grantaire had a lot to say), the artist and Grantaire had an ongoing feud via social media which boiled down to ‘Chad’ (his name wasn’t really Chad, but Grantaire liked to call all “frat boy types of misogynistic assholes” by that name) having said something racist about immigrants. Ever since, Grantaire had worked hard to be better than him but realised that the hate-work was a waste of energy and time, which he could better dedicate to making something he really loved. 

“One day, I’m gonna design the cover for the next Harry Potter. But… racially diverse Harry Potter. And then Chad is gonna look so dumb because what I love will be loved and admired by millions of people and his crap art is still gonna be in a tiny Parisian gallery while I lounge around my flat in my underwear. But, and here’s the catch, it’s underwear for 25€ a piece, because I’ll be rich then,” Grantaire concluded their tour through the exhibit. 

Enjolras looked at Grantaire, then and there, thinking that, yes, this was it, this was Grantaire, and he loved everything about that man. The impactful confession nearly slipped through his lips but he bit his tongue and held the words back. 

“You know… my mum writes books and I know that she and her artist went separate ways after the last book. I could ask her?”

“What kind of books are we talking?”

“Politically correct and LGBT+ inclusive kids’ books. I got my attitude from somewhere, trust me.”

Grantaire laughed softly and pulled Enjolras into a tight hug. “And you’re telling me that we aren’t fate!” 

Enjolras hugged him back, lingering maybe a second too long. But if Grantaire noticed, he didn’t comment on it. 

“It’s not fate, because it’s not a fake date,” Enjolras smiled softly. “Up for coffee before we tackle the rest of the gallery? I think I really need it.”

“I wasn’t too much, was I? I’m sorry…”

“No, no, no, no, don’t worry! It was a great deal of fun but I need to digest it all before we look at the actual nice art. Or… well, nice if you say it’s nice. I kinda just look at it, like or dislike it, and then move on.” Enjolras got in the short queue at the café and shrugged his shoulders lightly. “I do enjoy going to museums with you, though. It’s more fun when you learn something more about the artists or the works or the style they’ve been painted in.”

“You like the academic part of arts.”

“Guilty as charged,” Enjolras grinned. “Coffee like always for you? And some cake?”

“Yes, and yes, a brownie, I think.”

“I’ll pay for it, no discussion. So you can start saving up for your underwear.” Enjolras winked at him and then directed his attention to the barista, giving their order. 

Once they got their baked goods and the coffee, and were seated, Enjolras said: “I can totally ask my mum if she’d take you into consideration for her next book. I can’t promise anything and I know that you’d need to go through the usual application process but I know that, if it came down to it, she’d pick you over someone equally as talented. Sadly and luckily, the world works better when you got relationships and contacts.”

“I’d actually really like that. I owe you big time.”

“Nonsense. That’s what friends are for, right?” 

“About that…” Grantaire bit his bottom lip and turned the coffee cup around in his hands one too many times. 

Shit.

He knew. Enjolras was sure Grantaire knew. But, despite his earlier promise to himself to assess the situation with a clear mind, his thoughts were all over the place. It was a mess in there, as if words such as ‘rational’ and ‘level-headed’ had tripped over furniture and were sprawled out on the floor while ‘panic’ and ‘abandonment’ floated right over them. 

“You said it’s not fate because it’s not a fake date. Are you with me if I say it would be nice if it were a real date? Or did I just… read everything wrong?”

Enjolras laughed in relief. “I think we can agree that the rest of the gallery tour should be spend holding hands and knowing it’s a real date. A rate, if you will.” 

“A fucking rate he says,” Grantaire mumbled, lips quirking up in a smirk. “I’ll rate you with a 9.5 out of 10, because sometimes you combine two different shades of red and that’s a problem with needs fixing. I took 2.5 points off you for that.”

“So you’re saying I’m an eleven when naked, then?” Enjolras leaned forward and batted his eyelashes. 

“Petit chou, 9.5 plus 2.5 makes twelve, so unless your junk is grass green, which would not compliment your complexion, you’re not an eleven when nude.”

“I’m gay, I can’t do Maths.” 

“Oh my God, you are unbelievable,” Grantaire snorted. He reached across the table to grab Enjolras’ hands in his. 

“You better believe it,” Enjolras smiled softly. “Cause I’m in it for the long run. Oh my God, Combeferre and Courfeyrac are gonna have my head for not talking to them before,” he groaned. 

“You do know that our friends have a betting pool, right? Like, betting on us. I got a glance at it when Joly left his notebook open. Rookie mistake. Bahorel is convinced our love confession will happen during a heated argument. Marius believes you’ll be the one to take the first step but I’ll be the first one to say the words. Are you very mad if we don’t actually say it just yet?”

“I’m not mad, no. Very happy about that, actually. We’ll just grow together and discover our relationship at our pace. Just out of curiosity: what’s Courfeyrac’s verdict?” 

“I make the first move but you’ll kiss me first,” Grantaire said. “Do you want me to send you the photo of the list?”

Enjolras hummed thoughtfully. “Well, he has been eyeing those really nice high-waisted jeans with the flowers on the side for ages now but is always too cheap to buy them… Text me the photo, I’ll make sure he can buy them.”

Grantaire let go of Enjolras’ hands, quickly sending him the list. “So, you wanna…”

He nodded softly. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to kiss you. And not just because of Courfeyrac.”

“Those are weird words without context.”

“Truly are.”

“I’d love for you to kiss me, though,” Grantaire smiled. 

Enjolras scooted over with his chair, hand coming to rest on Grantaire’s cheek. “I’m really crap at this and very nervous,” he announced before leaning in and kissing Grantaire softly. 

The press of Grantaire’s lips against his had him nearly stop everything and fall dramatically onto the floor. There might not be any fireworks but there sure was a warmth spreading within him, from his toes through his fingertips up to the roots of his hair. His other hand found its way into Grantaire’s curls, effectively knocking the beanie off his head. Grantaire gently chuckled against his lips, leaning their foreheads together. When Enjolras had collected himself enough to open his eyes again, he was met with a gaze that stole his breath.

“Hey,” Grantaire smiled.

“Hey yourself,” Enjolras smiled back. “I just made Courfeyrac a ton of money so if he gets laid because of the pants, I want the credit for that.”

“Jesus, Enjolras.” Grantaire laughed loudly and kissed him again. 

Later that day, after they had toured the rest of the museum holding hands and trading soft kisses in front of paintings about wrath and decay, Enjolras was curled up on Grantaire’s bed, leaning against his boyfriend (!!!!). He’d already sent his mum a text, now it was Courfeyrac’s turn. Attaching the image, Enjolras wrote:  _ hope this is still valid. you gotta buy those flower mom jeans you wanted from your money, promise? _

His text was answered within a minute, a simple voice message which contained only the words  _ I fucking knew it I am so happy for you tell Grantaire I’ll give him the shovel talk later after I bought the pants love you and bye!  _

Enjolras smiled to himself, cuddling closer to Grantaire, who pressed a soft kiss against the side of his head. 

“Let him talk, I’m ready for it. Ready to face the world with you,” Grantaire mumbled softly against his curls. 


End file.
